


Coming Back To You

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Breakup and reconciliation-- angst meter: mediumPost-high school Quinn and Rachel have broken up.





	1. Coming Back To You

**Title:** Coming Back To You  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R-ish  
**Length:** 5000  
**Spoilers:** None, really. But let’s say through The Power of Madonna to be safe.  
**Summary:** Post-high school Quinn and Rachel have broken up.

* * *

 

Rachel took a deep breath and then walked into the bar. The bartender, Kate, looked up and smiled when she saw Rachel. Kate pointed to her left and Rachel glanced in that direction to see the blonde slumped at the bar.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Hey you,” Rachel greeted the bartender as she passed.

“Hey you,” Kate said. “It’s been a long time, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you, too.”

Rachel walked to Quinn who was sitting in a stool with her elbows on the bar. Quinn had her head bowed, her palms covered her eyes and her fingers touched her forehead. Rachel approached Quinn slowly, reluctant to actually make contact with the blonde. She took a deep breath before she put her hand on Quinn’s back.

“Quinn. I’ll drive you home,” Rachel said stiffly.

Quinn jumped slightly, though her reaction was lethargic. Quinn pulled her hands away from her face and stumbled slightly. Rachel reached out to steady her.

Quinn looked at Rachel and smiled. “Rachel,” she said happily. “You’re here.”

“I’m here to drive you home,” Rachel said calmly.

It’d been over a year since they broke up and while she was more or less over it, seeing Quinn now brought back all the old bitterness. She wished she could say that she wasn’t angry or worried. She wished she could say she felt nothing. But it wouldn’t be true. None of it.

Quinn smiled happily and stumbled out of her bar stool to throw her arms around Rachel. “You’re here,” she murmured. “Finally,” she sighed. “I still come here hoping to run into you.”

Rachel sighed. She instinctively wrapped her arms around Quinn and pressed their cheeks together. She sighed again and stroked Quinn’s hair and tried to ignore the way Quinn sighed and then started to cry. Rachel then realized what she was doing and stopped.

This was their favorite bar. It was an old person’s bar, mostly, but the drinks were cheap. It’d been run by the same family for about a zillion years, and Kate, the bar owner’s granddaughter was their favorite bartender. Rachel hadn’t been back to the bar since she and Quinn broke up, and while she’d missed it and contemplated going there with friends or with Tim, she would always consider this place to be hers and Quinn’s. Which meant she never wanted to go back. But when Kate called her at midnight, asking her to come collect Quinn and take her home because she was stupid, sad drunk and couldn’t be trusted to even make it to a subway stop, Rachel didn’t hesitate to leave her apartment.

“Come on,” Rachel said. “I borrowed Tim’s car, so I’ll take you home. Do you still live at our place?” She cursed herself for calling their old apartment ‘our place’ when it hadn’t been their shared space for sixteen months.

Quinn squinted at her. “Who’s Tim?”

Rachel winced. He’d become such a part of her life, she’d almost forgotten that Quinn wouldn’t know about him. “He’s a friend,” she lied. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said. “I’m drunk.”

“I know,” Rachel said patiently. “That’s why I’m here.”

They were only a few blocks away from Quinn’s apartment-- the one Rachel had once shared with the blonde, but Rachel could see that Quinn was in no condition to walk. They used to walk to and from that bar-- they were inevitably drunk when they walked back, but it always felt okay because they were together. Rachel didn’t feel like handling Quinn when she was drunk so she drove and then parked at the red zone in front of her old apartment because it was worth risking the ticket. If she had to look for parking, she could end up walking with Quinn from Timbuktu and that would have defeated the purpose of driving from the bar.

Rachel contemplated just letting Quinn out, but she couldn’t do it in good conscience. She helped Quinn out of the car and wrapped her arm around Quinn’s waist.

Rachel knew she was an idiot. Here she was, running to Quinn’s side when the blonde had dumped her without looking back. All it took was an olive branch from Quinn’s parents and the blonde had kicked her to the curb so quickly that Rachel thought maybe she was dreaming their entire relationship.

It’s not that Rachel didn’t understand-- they were Quinn’s parents, so they were family. Theoretically, family should be more important than some girlfriend. But the Fabrays were not the kind of people who could be counted on-- they ditched Quinn when Quinn was a scared, pregnant 16 year old kid. Rachel had been friends with Quinn since they were 16 year old kids in Lima, Ohio. Rachel thought that could have counted for something, but when Mr. and Mrs. Fabray resurfaced in Quinn’s life during their junior year of college, with the promise of paying for the rest of Quinn’s college tuition, Quinn had been thrilled. And when Mr. and Mrs. Fabray were horrified by Quinn’s living arrangement, Rachel deluded herself into believing Quinn loved her enough to tell her parents to shove it. But Quinn told her to shove it instead.

So Rachel did.

Rachel walked Quinn to her door and helped Quinn open the door. Once the door opened, Quinn stepped inside and peered at Rachel. She reached for Rachel’s hand. “Come inside,” the blonde said softly.

Rachel shook her head. “I have to get back to Tim.”

Quinn looked at her sadly. “Come inside,” she pleaded. “It’s my birthday.”

Rachel sighed. “Quinn.”

“Please,” Quinn pleaded. “I couldn’t have a birthday party knowing you wouldn’t be there.” She smiled at Rachel hopefully. “Please come inside. It’s my birthday.”

Rachel sighed. That was just so unfair. But she gave in anyway. “Just for a couple minutes,” Rachel grumbled. “I don’t want a ticket.”

The moment Rachel stepped inside, Quinn’s arms were around her. Their embrace was sloppy and because Quinn was significantly taller, Rachel stumbled. The front door closed and Rachel felt her back slam against it.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Quinn breathed.

“I’ll bet,” Rachel said sardonically, unable to keep the bitterness away.

Yeah, sure. Quinn missed her. Missed hers so much that she hadn’t heard from Quinn once in the entire time they were broken up. No phone call, no email, no text message-- not even a Facebook comment.

“I love you so much,” Quinn sighed.

“Sure.”

Sure. Quinn loved her so much that she’d dumped Rachel because her parents told her to, and then never looked back.

“Where did you go? Quinn asked, her face burrowing into Rachel’s neck.

Rachel could feel Quinn’s tears on her skin. “I’m right here, Quinn.”

“You don’t go to our old places.”

Rachel pulled away. “Come on,” she said, putting some space between her and Quinn. “You should drink some water and then I’ll put you to bed.”

“Where have you gone?” Quinn asked softly.

Rachel sighed. “You’re drunk,” she said, taking Quinn by the hand and yanking slightly. “Come with me.”

Rachel pulled Quinn into the kitchen and poured Quinn a cup of water. She watched as Quinn drank it and then took the cup away from Quinn. “I think you should eat something,” Rachel said. She’d only seen Quinn this intoxicated on a few occasions and she knew it meant that Quinn would have a debilitating hangover tomorrow, the kind in which Quinn groaned and cursed for a couple of hours.

Rachel opened the refrigerator and frowned disapprovingly at the sparse contents.

“Quinn, when was the last time you went grocery shopping? This is highly unhealthy, even if it is somewhat economical.” Rachel paused. “Unless you’re eating out a lot, in which case, that is not very frugal.”

“Food doesn’t taste the same anymore,” Quinn said softly. “And we used to cook together. I miss that. It’s no fun without you.”

Rachel sighed. “There’s not much I can work with here,” she said, ignoring Quinn’s comment altogether, but she knew what the blonde meant. After they broke up, food didn’t taste the same, sleeping didn’t feel as good anymore and nothing felt good or fun. She’d only recently started to come out of that and she wasn’t planning on being sucked back in.

“I’m not hungry,” Quinn said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re going to wish you had tomorrow,” she said crossly. “So just sit down and don’t talk to me for a while, okay?”

Quinn bowed her head. “Okay.”

Rachel opened the refrigerator and freezer and looked at the contents contemplatively. She finally decided on making Quinn a cheese omelet, because those were basically the only things in Quinn’s refrigerator. Rachel’s eyes settled on a bottle of Sephora O.P.I. nail polish (shade: Dear Diary) that she left there when she’d still lived there. She felt the insane compulsion to pocket it, it was hers, after all, so she did.

She cooked Quinn the omelet and poured Quinn another glass of water. While Quinn ate, Rachel washed the pan and spatula she used. She used it as an excuse not to talk to Quinn, and she was okay with that. Once she finished, she saw that Quinn was done with the omelet.

“Not hungry, huh?” Rachel teased, and then she cursed herself because it was more out of habit. She actually wasn’t in a joking sort of mood.

“It was the best thing in a long time,” Quinn said wistfully. “Thanks.”

“Yes, well,” Rachel said. “I don’t want an angry call from you tomorrow accusing me of exacerbating your hangover somehow.”

“I can call you tomorrow?” Quinn asked hopefully.

“Well,” Rachel said. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Rachel fought back a sigh when she saw the way Quinn’s face trembled at that. She wasn’t trying to be a bitch. Well, maybe a little bit. But getting over the breakup had taken work, and she wasn’t sure she could stay ‘over it,’ if Quinn called.

“Come on,” Rachel said. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.” She filled Quinn’s glass with more water so that the blonde could have it if she woke up in the middle of the night, or if she woke up the next morning dehydrated but disinclined to get out of bed.

Quinn followed Rachel as the brunette led Quinn to the bedroom by the hand.

“Rachel?”

“What?”

“Where have you gone?” Quinn asked quietly.

“I’m right here, Quinn. You’re just drunk and illogical.”

“No,” Quinn said. “I mean, where do you go now? I don’t ever see you anymore, not at our old grocery store, dry cleaner or--”

“Quinn, that’s enough.”

“Where have you gone?” Quinn repeated.

“It’s really none of your business anymore,” Rachel said. She pushed Quinn onto the bed into a seated position.

“Where have you gone? I never get to see you anymore.” She sighed. “I miss you.”

Rachel smiled bitterly. “You don’t miss me. You’re just drunk and nostalgic.” She pushed Quinn onto her back. “You won’t even remember this in the morning.”

“I miss you,” Quinn said quietly. “I still love you.” Quinn struggled to sit up. Once she did, she stood up and wrapped her arms around Rachel. “You were right,” she breathed. “It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it to let you go.”

Rachel disentangled herself and pushed Quinn onto the bed again. Quinn was lying on her back and Rachel desperately wished she could get away. “You never loved me, Quinn,” she said firmly. “You’re just drunk and sentimental because it’s your birthday. You’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Quinn looked up at her.

Rachel glanced away because she could never stand it when Quinn looked sad.

“Can’t I come back to you?” Quinn asked softly.

Rachel blinked back tears. Even now, those were words she wanted to hear. But Quinn had made her choice, and although Rachel understood, it wasn’t the kind of choice that Quinn could take back. Maybe Quinn had loved her once, but it was pretty clear that Quinn just didn’t love her enough.

“I’m getting married,” Rachel told her gently. “To Tim. Next month. It’s too late, Quinn, because I’m never coming back to you.”

She’d known him for a year, although they’d only been a couple for six months. Still, he was more in love with her than she was in love with him, and so she knew he’d never leave her. He’d never kick her to the curb. He’d never tell her he loved her in one breath and then cry and break up with her with the next.

“You’re getting married?” Quinn asked thickly. “Already?”

Rachel shrugged. “He loves me.”

“That was supposed to be us,” Quinn said quietly.

“But it’s not,” Rachel said sharply. She wanted to add ‘because you don’t love me,’ but she didn’t. She didn’t want to say it out loud again.

Quinn curled into the fetal position, covering her head with her hands.

Rachel swallowed hard. She put her hand on Quinn’s head. “Happy birthday, Quinn,” she said softly. “It’s okay, we never would have gotten it right anyway.” She stroked Quinn’s hair. “I’m going to go.”

She could hear Quinn still sobbing as she left the apartment and it went against every instinct that had been ingrained in her body and her heart to walk away when everything else told her to go back.

When she got to the car, there was a ticket waiting for her. She cursed.

\--  
  
Quinn woke up the next morning with the kind of hangover for which you wished yourself dead. She groaned when she realized that Rachel was the one who’d gotten her home in one piece. She didn’t remember the details, but she remembered Rachel was the one who came to collect her and take her home. She covered her face. God, alone, drunk in an old person’s bar on her birthday. She must have looked so pathetic. She had options, of course. But the idea of celebrating another birthday without Rachel made her completely depressed and she felt like she had no reason to celebrate.

She’d dumped her girlfriend because her parents made her feel like it was an either-or situation, And God, her parents hadn’t even called her on her birthday. Not even a text. She broke up with Rachel because her parents offered a relationship with them and paying for the rest of her college education, and somehow the promise of lowering a student loan payment and having a relationship with her asshole parents became more alluring than a relationship with a girl who’d always been kind to her, even when they weren’t friends. Who picked her up, got her home safe and took care of her even after they’d broken up.

Once she recovered, she called Rachel.

Rachel answered after a few rings.

“Hello,” Rachel said, her voice brusque but cautious.

“Hi,” Quinn said softly. “I…I wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night.”

Rachel paused. “Okay,” she said. “You’re welcome. Take care, Quinn.”

“Wait!” Quinn exclaimed, knowing that Rachel was about to hang up.

“What?”

“I…Can I buy you dinner?” Quinn asked. “You know, to thank you.”

“Aren’t you afraid your parents will cut you off if you’re seen in public with me?” Rachel asked sardonically.

Quinn flinched. “I deserve that.”

“It’s fine, Quinn,” Rachel said, her tone civil but devoid of warmth. “Kate called me to get you, so you should really be thanking her and taking _her_ out to dinner.”

“But you took care of me, and you didn’t have to,” Quinn said softly.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you there in good conscience.”

“But you…”

“Quinn,” Rachel said firmly. “You were really drunk last night, so maybe you don’t remember this. But I told you that I’d really prefer it if you didn’t call me.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I’d still like to thank you,” she said quietly. “I’d like to buy you dinner.”

Rachel sighed. “Quinn, it’s _fine_. There’s nothing to thank me for and I don’t really want to see you anyway.”

“We can’t be friends again?” Quinn asked timidly.

Rachel was silent for a long moment before she spoke. “We were never friends,” Rachel said flatly. “One week, you hated me. Then we got drunk at a party at Mike’s and I kissed you. Then we started dating. Then you broke up with me. You and I, we’ve never been friends and I don’t see why we should be now.”

“I miss you, Rachel,” Quinn whispered.

“That’s funny,” Rachel said. “Because I distinctly remember telling you that you would, and I also distinctly remember you telling me you wouldn’t.”

Quinn flinched at the memory of it. She knew she was an awful person. She knew she’d chosen her parents over Rachel because they dangled college tuition and the promise of family. And she thought that maybe treating Rachel like crap before she broke up with the brunette would make it easier on the brunette, because if Rachel hated her, then maybe Rachel wouldn’t be sad. But she could see how devastating all that was for Rachel-- all the “I don’t love you” and the “I won’t miss you, don’t delude yourself” and the “I’m never going to regret this, _ever_.”

It was all lies, because Quinn did love Rachel, she did miss Rachel, and she’d regretted it every day for the past sixteen months.

“Rachel--”

“Look, Quinn. I’m with someone else. I’m getting married next month and it would be _really_ disrespectful of me to go to dinner with my ex, even if I wanted to go to dinner with you-- _which I don’t_. Tim is a good guy and I won’t do that to him. Thank you for being appreciative for last night, I hope you feel better today and happy birthday. But I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I’ve been fine without you for the past sixteen months, so don’t fuck it up for me now, okay?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Okay,” Quinn whispered, gripping her phone hard in her hand because she somehow thought it would keep her voice from wavering. It didn’t.

Rachel seemed to soften. “You’ll find someone new,” she said gently. “I loved you once, remember? I know what you have to offer.” Rachel took a deep breath. “You’re awesome,” she said sincerely. “I adored you,” Rachel said. “Someone else will do it better and you’ll actually love them, so then it’ll work out with them. Take care, Quinn,” Rachel said. “Bye.”

Quinn stared at the phone, wishing there was something she could do, but Rachel had made herself pretty clear.

She’d dated a few people since the break-up-- all men, and she searched for Rachel in all of them. But none of them could ever compare. She’d had a few one night stands with women-- all of petite and dark-haired and dark-eyed, but all of them were just bad carbon copies for the person she really wanted.

She wanted Rachel and looking back on it, Quinn had no idea what she was thinking.

She wanted to be the kind of person to step back gracefully. Rachel had looked beautiful last night, and she was with someone new, someone she was going to marry. Apparently he was good to her. Someone who was unafraid to love her. Quinn had wanted that for Rachel.

But she was selfish, because she felt envy for this man she’d never met because Rachel had chosen him. She was selfish and terrible because she’d broken up with Rachel and had been mean while she did it. She was selfish and horrible because though she wanted Rachel’s happiness with someone good, someone who loved her, there was something she wanted more. She wanted Rachel to be happy with her.

She wished it hadn’t taken so long to figure it out.

She knew it was awful of her, but she couldn’t just let it go. She had to know more, because if this Tim guy wasn’t a good guy, then she would feel no qualms about trying to get Rachel back. If Tim wasn’t right for Rachel, she’d have no qualms of trying to get Rachel back. Even if Tim was the nicest guy on earth and perfect for Rachel, Quinn still wanted to try. She had to try.

She called Santana because Rachel still talked to Brittany and Brittany told Santana everything.

“Who is this Tim guy?” Quinn demanded. “The one Rachel’s marrying next month.”

Santana was suspicious. “How did you find out about that?” she asked.

“I saw Rachel last night and she told me.”

“Don’t do anything irrational, Fabray,” Santana said. “Puck bet Brittany three hundred dollars that you’d try to stop the wedding somehow.” Santana paused. “ _I_ think you’re crazy enough to do it, but Brittany thinks you love Rachel enough to let her go. Whatever _that_ means,” Santana added. “So don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re staking Rachel’s happiness-- my happiness on three hundred dollars?” Quinn demanded incredulously.

“Well,” Santana said. “It’s three hundred dollars.”

“Nevermind that,” Quinn said irritably. “What’s this guy like?”

“He’s actually a good guy,” Santana admitted. “He’s good to her, Quinn.”

“Oh,” Quinn whispered.

“He is way too tall for her though,” Santana said. “He’s like, six foot six. Seeing them together is so awkward. She looks like a little kid next to him. I didn’t want to picture it, but I pictured them having sex. It’s awkward.”

Quinn couldn’t help chuckling. “What?”

“You know how it is when the guy is a giant and the girl is a midget like Rachel. The height difference is so weird. They must have the most awkward sex ever. A guy that tall liking Rachel? You _know_ he watches midget porn or something.”

“She’s not a midget, she’s 5’2”,” Quinn said quietly. But a part of her was took malicious pleasure in what Santana was saying because she always thought the height difference between she and Rachel was _perfect_.

“Quinn,” Santana said softly.

“What?” Quinn said, alarmed by the gentleness of Santana’s tone. Santana was only that gentle with Brittany.

“She seems happy and he’s a good guy. Don’t fuck it up for her.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Oh.”

She talked for a few minutes more with Santana and then with Brittany and hung up. She talked to Puck and Finn, too, and both of them told her that they liked this Tim guy.

“Step off, you cut her loose,” Puck told her bluntly.

“If you ruin this for her, I’m never talking to you again,” Finn threatened. “Stop thinking of yourself for _once_ and let someone just be happy.”

But she couldn’t step off, and she couldn’t just let Rachel go. Because seeing Rachel again made her remember how good it’d been and it brought the weight of her enormous mistake crashing down on her. Okay, if Rachel chose this Tim person, then that was one thing. But Quinn wanted to at least _try_. How could she let Rachel marry someone else without at least trying to get Rachel back?

\--

She didn’t know where Rachel lived, didn’t know anything about Rachel anymore, really. She wrangled Rachel’s new address from Brittany and was going to send flowers until Brittany informed her that Rachel lived with her fiancé. So then she found out Rachel had a part on an off-Broadway play and sent flowers to the theatre.

She got no response, so she sent more flowers. She got no response to that, either. She tried more flowers, chocolate, stuffed animals holding balloons, more flowers, a gift basket with mix CDs she made, and more flowers. But she didn’t get any response. Finally, she sent 144 flowers, arranged into 12 bouquets of a dozen roses each. It cost her up the yin yang, but she thought it was worth it.

That, finally, got a response.

“Stop it!” Rachel shouted, her voice coming out in a shriek. “I’m getting married in two weeks and you are stressing me out! I still have a million things to do, and I can’t concentrate on them if I’m too busy thinking about you stalking me!”

“I’m not actually stalking you,” Quinn said mildly. “I’m just--“

“Stop it,” Rachel pleaded. “Why are you doing this now? I’ve moved on, Quinn. Tim loves me and I’m marrying him. I don’t think about you so much anymore, so why are you trying to make me?”

“I was wrong,” Quinn said. “It was so stupid to let you go. Please. _Please_ you can’t marry him. You said you wanted to marry _me_ one day.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Rachel demanded. “You told me you wanted to break up. You told me you didn’t love me. You told me you’d never regret it. And now just because you’re nostalgic and sentimental, I’m supposed to throw away this relationship with this really great guy just because _you_ tell me not to marry him, just because _you_ come back and tell me you made a mistake? Well, fuck you.”

“Do you love him?” Quinn asked quietly, because Rachel had repeated that he’d loved her, but she’d never said she loved him.

“That’s none of your business!” Rachel huffed.

And Quinn knew. She knew that Rachel may have cared for him, but she didn’t love him. Not a marriage sort of love anyway, because she would have said “of course I love him!” and not “that’s none of your business!” Quinn knew Rachel well enough to know that.

“Just have dinner with me,” Quinn begged. “I need to see you.”

“You didn’t care when I needed to see you,” Rachel said coldly.

“If this is it, then let’s have some closure.”

“I think we already have.”

“Please, Rachel.”

Rachel was quiet and then sighed. “Fine,” she said grudgingly.

\--

Quinn reached for Rachel, but Rachel pulled away. They were lying in the bed they once shared and Quinn could see the regret written plainly over Rachel’s face. It made Quinn ache with hurt and regret, too, and she wished they hadn’t come here to talk after dinner when it was clear that neither of them returned here with the intent to talk.

“Rachel,” Quinn said quietly. “It’s all right.”

“I hate you,” Rachel whispered bluntly. “I hate you.”

Rachel got dressed.

“Rachel, wait.”

“I hate you,” Rachel said again, before she grabbed her shoes and fled.

\--

Quinn heard that the wedding never took place, because Santana called Quinn to yell at her because Brittany now owed Puck three hundred bucks.

“ _You_ pay him,” Santana snapped.

“Is Rachel okay?” Quinn asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Santana admitted. “No one’s heard from her in three days. Runaway Bride disconnected her phone and she moved out of Tim’s apartment like a cat burglar.”

“Oh,” Quinn said.

“If you see Runaway Bride, tell her I want my Panini press back.”  
\--

There was a knock on her door one day, and Quinn just _knew_. She opened the door to see Rachel looking small, frail, sad and so so very angry.

“Rachel,” Quinn greeted quietly.

“I hate you,” Rachel said flatly.

“I know,” Quinn said, swallowing hard. “I love you.”

“I know,” Rachel said, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

\--

Rachel felt small and frail in her arms. It’d only been a couple weeks since she’d last seen Rachel, but the brunette had lost a significant amount of weight-- weight that Rachel really could not have afforded to lose. Quinn traced her fingers along Rachel’s rib cage and swallowed hard, wishing she could stop feeling guilty long enough to enjoy feeling Rachel in her arms again.

Rachel pushed her away. “I hate you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Quinn said, accepting it. “I love you.”

“I know,” Rachel said softly. She turned to face Quinn and she gently traced her fingers down Quinn’s cheek. “I hate you,” she said again. “But somehow, I always find myself coming back to you,” she said, more like she was thinking out loud than she was talking to Quinn.

“I love you,” Quinn said quietly.

“I hate you,” Rachel said, her eyes hard. “You couldn’t let me be happy, could you? You couldn’t just let me be with someone who loved me more than I loved them. You ruined my life and I ruined his. I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“I hate you,” Rachel said. “I’ll never love you again. We can keep doing this until the day we both die, but I’ll never love you again,” she vowed. “I hate you.”

“I love you, Rachel.”

Rachel’s lip trembled. “I hate you,” she said again, but she said it with less conviction and malice.

“I love you.”

“I hate you,” Rachel whispered.

“I know,” Quinn said, tears spilling out of her eyes. “But I love you, Rachel.”

“You ruined everything for me. Twice.”

“I know,” Quinn said softly. “But I love you.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. But I love you.”

“I ha--” Rachel’s voice wavered and she trailed off.

“You hate me,” Quinn finished for her.

“Yes,” Rachel whispered.

“You hate me.”

“Yes,” Rachel said. She swept her thumb across Quinn’s lower lip and stared at Quinn’s mouth for a moment before she brushed her lips against Quinn’s.

“I love you,” Quinn said quietly, once they broke the kiss.

“I know,” Rachel said softly. She closed her eyes. “I love you, too”

“I know.”

Rachel turned away. Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s bare back.

Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel and was just relieved that Rachel didn’t push her away. Even with Rachel right there, Quinn wasn’t sure she’d ever get it right, or if she’d ever make things right with Rachel. All she knew was that this was still better than the sixteen months of sleepless nights without Rachel.

“I love you,” Quinn said.

“I know.”

“I love you,” Quinn said. She’d never stop saying it again.

“I know.”

The End


	2. Better Than Today part 1

**Title:** Better Than Today  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** NC-17ish for being a little smutty waaay toward the end. It’s not, you know, graphic or anything. Just more graphic than I tend to be  
**Length:** 11,745  
**Spoilers:** None, really. But let’s say through Bad Reputation to be safe.  
**Summary:** This is kind of a follow-up to “Coming Back to You.” It’s slightly happier because the ‘happy ending’ is less ambiguous.  
And yes, “dark and twisty” is TOTALLY a Grey’s Anatomy reference

Happy Mother’s Day! Mine was fabulous, so I hope all of yours was, too.

* * *

 

Rachel thought it said a lot about her that she could only admit to herself she was drinking way too much alcohol when she stepped on a scale and realized she gained five pounds in four months and it wasn’t from eating because she’d barely had an appetite since she called off the wedding with Tim and started dating Quinn again. It was not the fact the alcohol was making her mean so she was overly blunt. It wasn’t the fact that when the relentlessly cheerful barista told her to “have a nice day!” she told the guy “no.” It was vanity.

She broke off her engagement and it’d been bad-- Tim had been devastated and humiliated and Rachel felt terrible for hurting someone who’d been so good to her. She knew she was crazy for giving him up for a girl who’d broken her heart. Rachel wasn’t even sure Quinn actually loved her. In a perfect world, she would have loved him back just as much as he loved her.

She’d drank pretty steadily and nearly every day. Not enough to debilitate her the next day, just enough to blunt the edges.

“Are you drinking so much to make it easier to be around me?” Quinn once joked, a month after they started dating again.

It’d only been a month since she almost got married and Rachel thought she was entitled to a little wallowing. Quinn said it like she was joking, but she was looking at Rachel with this really sad, really guilty, really _scared_ expression and it made Rachel want to run screaming in the other direction.

She’d had three dirty martinis with dinner when Quinn asked. She’d drank every drop of the martinis but barely touched the food. She wasn’t drunk enough where she could tell Quinn the truth-- that yes, she was drinking so much so that it was easier to be around Quinn. But she wasn’t sober enough that she could lie and reassure Quinn, that no, of course that wasn’t the case. So she said nothing, but it backfired because Quinn got teary.

It was the five pounds that did it. It wasn’t so much the weight. Well, it was, but she’d lost weight after breaking things off with Tim, so she was only going back to her regular weight. She wasn’t particularly worried about the net change. But she was worried that she’d gained five pounds in four months, and that it happened even though she had no appetite and was exercising like crazy _every_ day. It had to be the alcohol and if she was drinking enough to gain weight like that, then she was drinking too much.

She wasn’t going to go to any AA meetings any time soon, but she did want to be able to hang out with Quinn and not have a drink in her hand.

She also knew she was drinking too much when Quinn came over to her apartment carrying a six pack of Blue Moon.

“I brought you beer,” Quinn announced.

Rachel took it. “Thanks,” she said but she put the whole thing away in her refrigerator rather than taking one like she usually did. “Do you want one?” she asked, holding the fridge door open in case Quinn wanted one.

“No thanks. You don’t want one?” Quinn asked, surprised.

“Not right now, no.”

Quinn just looked too happy, too relieved by that and then Rachel knew. She knew she’d been drinking way too much.

\--

That six pack of Blue Moon stayed in her refrigerator for a month, and she didn’t touch any alcohol during that entire time. She lost the five pounds plus a few pounds extra and while things with Quinn were still hard, at least Quinn didn’t look at her with that constant expression of worry and guilt.

It was still hard to talk to Quinn, so Rachel found herself not saying anything but at least alcohol wasn’t making her overtly mean. She’d been overtly mean to Quinn under the influence of alcohol more times than she wanted to admit. She was angry and she was hurt, but she didn’t want to be an abusive asshole, either.

“We’re okay without the alcohol, right?” Quinn asked hesitantly one night over dinner. “We don’t need it to talk to each other, right?”

Rachel focused her attention on continuing to separate the peas, carrots, corn, onions and cauliflower from one another in her vegetable side dish. She wasn’t hungry, but she wasn’t self-aware enough to realize that she was playing with her food rather than eating it. “No, of course we don’t need it,” Rachel said softly, avoiding Quinn’s eyes and staring at her plate.

“It’s just…” Quinn hesitated. “It’s been about a month since I’ve seen you drink and it’s been about a month since you’ve really talked to me.”

Rachel winced and looked up at Quinn to make eye contact for the first time the entire night. She reached for Quinn’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just… I was really mean to you for a while but at least I could blame it on the alcohol. If I kept on being mean to you then it’s just who I am and I don’t want to be someone who’s mean to you. I’d rather just shut up.”

“You’re not mean.”

Rachel forced a smile. “Why don’t you think about what movie you want to watch after this? Any ideas?”

“I really do love you,” Quinn said, squeezing Rachel’s hand.

Rachel thought about the night Quinn broke up with her, the way the blonde insisted she didn’t love her. She kept telling Quinn that it wasn’t true, kept insisting to the blonde that “you love me!” but Quinn kept repeating “I don’t love you,” and when a person said that enough, Rachel thought she should believe it. She wasn’t sure why she should believe Quinn now, but she wanted to. Rachel pulled her hand away from Quinn and unconsciously clenched it into a fist. “Sure,” she said softly

\--

Quinn wasn’t sure how to act with Rachel anymore, and that was a new feeling. She didn’t like it.

She’d known Rachel since high school, so they’d developed a certain level of comfort. They used to live together and now she felt like she was seeking out too much of Rachel’s attention. She wasn’t sure when to call, when not to call. Texting Rachel made her anxious because she wasn’t sure if she was annoying the other woman. She wasn’t sure how much she could reasonably demand Rachel’s time.

It was never like that before.

Rachel just seemed to go along with it. If Quinn called, Rachel generally picked up and when she didn’t, she called within a couple of hours, so that was reasonable. It was the same thing with text messages and emails. If Quinn suggested they hang out, Rachel always agreed to it.

They started going back to the restaurants, bars and shops they used to go to together. They were acting normal, but it was kind of like all they had was the ceremony and none of the substance.

She was trying and Rachel was trying, but they couldn’t seem to connect.

\--

They had an argument one night. It was a big one.

She asked Rachel if she could use Rachel’s laptop to check her email, and of course, Rachel said yes. So she opened the page to hotmail, but it logged her into Rachel’s account and it directed her into the drafts folder, since Rachel must have been looking at that page before she closed out. There were just so many drafts to Tim, Rachel’s ex, which Rachel clearly never sent, but still.

She couldn’t help it. She read some of them, and it wasn’t anything bad. They were heartfelt apologies, but in each and every one that she read, Rachel had written, “no one ever loved me as much as you loved me and I’m so sorry I ruined it. I know I’ll regret that I did it, but you won’t.”

It offended her that Rachel would tell this Tim guy “no one ever loved me as much as you loved me,” because what did that mean about her? And if Rachel knew she was going to regret leaving Tim, maybe she should have married him in the first place.

She picked the fight and Rachel seemed more annoyed that Quinn was bringing up Tim than the invasion of privacy. Quinn wasn’t sure if she would have preferred it the other way around.

“You don’t get to ask me about Tim,” Rachel said calmly. “Tim’s mine. You didn’t know him, you never met him and you don’t know anything about us. You don’t get to ask.”

“You almost married him! I have a right to know how you feel about him. What the fuck are you doing with me if you’re still thinking about him all the time? Are you getting back together with him?”

Rachel glared at her. “Quinn, I dumped him the night before our wedding at our rehearsal. I have to find something right to say. I have to _do_ something.”

In Quinn’s mind, once it was over, it was over. Or at least, it should be. The thought of Rachel still talking to her ex filled her with anxiety because things between them weren’t so good. Things were peaceful, so they weren’t fighting and Quinn knew she should be grateful for that, but things weren’t _good_ and neither of them were all that happy. Quinn was happy _enough_ because she was at least dating Rachel again, and as long as they were dating again, there was at least hope that things would be good again. But if Rachel got back together with Tim, the guy who apparently loved Rachel like no one ever did, Quinn knew she didn’t stand a chance. There was no way Rachel would fuck the guy over twice.

“ _Why_?” Quinn asked. “It’s over between you guys. Do you still love him or something? Are you hoping that if you fix things with him, and we split up, you can go back to him because ‘no one ever loved you like he loved you’?” she asked, mimicking Rachel’s voice. She was crossing a line, and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I just need to apologize to him, Quinn. Nothing I’ve said has made it better, and I _have_ to make it better.”

“You already apologized like a million times. You apologized to his parents, you apologized to his friends, you apologized to your friends. What more do you want to do? Get on your knees and fellate him one more time?”

The _instant_ she said it, Quinn knew she’d gone too far. It was exactly what she was thinking about, but it was the sort of thing a person thought about and never said. But she’d reached her boiling point.

Rachel was just staring at her, mouth slightly parted. Rachel just had that expression, that horribly hurt, shocked expression that Quinn hoped she’d never put on Rachel’s face again.

“Rachel, I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “I didn’t mean that.” She reached for Rachel’s hand, but Rachel pulled back.

“Yes, you did,” Rachel said quietly.

“No, I didn’t. I--”

“You don’t say things you don’t mean,” Rachel said flatly. Rachel’s expression was blank now, and it was an expression that was way too familiar to Quinn.

“It just makes me jealous you even wanted to marry him so soon after we broke up,” Quinn admitted, her voice small because she felt about two feet tall. “Do you really feel like he loved you more than I love you?”

“I told you,” Rachel said, her voice soft but cold. “You don’t get to ask me about him. You weren’t in my life when he was in my life.” She paused. “And maybe,” Rachel said frostily, “I don’t want to do to him what _you_ did to _me_.”

Quinn flinched. “Rach--”

Rachel bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, looking genuinely contrite. “That was really uncalled for.”

“Just tell me the truth,” Quinn pleaded. “Are you trying to get back together with him? Is that why you emailed him?”

It was really what she actually feared, she didn’t care so much if Rachel emailed or talked to him, but she was afraid that Rachel actually wanted to get back together with him, that Rachel regretted her choice.

Rachel’s hand unconsciously hovered to clutch her stomach and she looked distinctly unwell. “God, what kind of person do you think I am?” she asked. “Do you think I’d be standing with you here right now if I were trying to get back together with him? I hurt a _really_ good guy because I wanted to be with _you_. I get dragged back into your life and I begged you to leave me alone, but you wouldn’t. He was so good to me and all you did was ruin my life _twice_ and I _still_ wanted you more and now you’re yelling at me because I started some emails to apologize to him? I never even sent them! Are you fucking for real?”

“Well, it sounds really unreasonable when you put it like that.”

Quinn hoped a little bit of levity would de-escalate the situation, it always had in the past. No matter how furious Rachel got with her, a little joke could ease the tension. That didn’t mean Rachel stopped being mad at her, but it used to cool her ire. But now Rachel just looked at her like she was crazy.

Rachel blew out a breath and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can you go home?”

\--

Rachel spent the rest of the night on the couch, drinking bottles of the Blue Moon beer that Quinn brought over the month before. She flipped through the channels and discovered the Asian channel, and she watched what appeared to be a Japanese gangster movie, an hour long program of what appeared to be a Korean period drama that involved a lot of irate people, and weirdly enough, lots of montages about cooking. It made her feel vaguely hungry, but food didn’t interest her, so she decided to drink more instead. Then she watched a news broadcast in Cantonese, Thai music videos and a kungfu movie. Nothing had subtitles and it was weirdly appealing to her because she just watched and zoned out.

She was fairly drunk and somber when Santana and Brittany arrived to check on her.

She stumbled to the front door and allowed them to come inside. They followed her to the couch and flanked her on either side.

“Rachel, do you have any idea how disgusting you look right now?” Santana asked. “Your eyes are puffy and gross, at least put some tea bags over your eyes or something.”

Rachel gave her a glassy-eyed stare and then looked back at the TV. “When did this become the Persian channel?” she wondered aloud, more to herself.

“Quinn wanted us to make sure you were okay,” Brittany said. She paused. “I’ll just tell her you’re a little wobbly.”

Rachel chuckled and rested her head on Brittany’s shoulder. “I’m just tired.”

Brittany stroked Rachel’s hair. “Isn’t that God’s way of telling you to sleep?”

Rachel laughed again. “”I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Santana laughed. “That’s what I said.” But she exchanged a worried look with Brittany. “Why don’t you come back to our place with us tonight, Berry? I don’t want you choking to death on your own vomit because of all the crap you drank tonight.”

Rachel snuggled deeper into Brittany. “Just tell her I’m okay.”

\--

“So,” Rachel said to Santana over lunch the next day. “It’s not that I don’t eat lunch, but--”

“Oh, so you _do_ still eat,” Santana said, watching Rachel build a tower with her French fries rather than eating them.”You could have fooled me.”  
  
Santana was worried but she didn’t know how to communicate that without being bitchy. She’d asked Rachel to lunch to talk, but Brittany was probably better suited for the task. However, the blonde had pleaded with her to talk to Rachel, because Santana was more blunt and Santana couldn’t refuse because…she just couldn’t.

Rachel ignored the remark. “But I typically don’t partake in lunch with you. So what’s up?” She looked down at her plate at the relatively steady tower of French fries. “I could’ve been an architect,” she remarked with distant pride.

“Just wanted to see how hungover you were today after last night. Maybe rub it in your face a little.”

Rachel chuckled. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

Santana hesitated. “So, look. Brittany wanted me to talk to you about this…”

“Yeah?”

“We both think you’re depressed.”

Rachel gaped and then laughed. “You think I’m depressed?” she asked incredulously. “That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“You drink more than you eat, Berry.”

Rachel shrugged. “Last night was the first time I drank any alcohol in like a month.”

“You don’t eat. Quinn says you don’t sleep. You don’t talk to anyone, which in your world, is a sign of the apocalypse or impending psychotic break. Don’t get me wrong. You being dark and twisty has made you _way_ more appealing to me, but it’s not who you are and it’s worrying the shit out of Quinn which is worrying the shit out of Brittany which is bugging the living shit out of me. So I just wanted to let you know, in case you think you’re fooling anyone, that we’re onto you.”

Rachel stared at Santana with an expression that was so blankly bland that Santana was completely disconcerted. It was borderline offensive to be intimidated by Rachel Berry who was so not intimidating, but at the moment, Santana had to admit, Rachel was.

“I didn’t know,” Rachel said finally, “that it was so bad for Quinn.” She swallowed hard. “Okay. Thanks. I got it.”

Santana wanted to point out that wasn’t addressing her more important point she and Brittany thought Rachel was depressed, but Rachel’s expression indicated the subject was closed.  
\--

The truth was, Rachel was worn out and tired more than she was depressed. She felt this constant despair and guilt and she didn’t know how to get rid of it. She lived with it every day and she felt it so constantly, it was hardly ever painful. But it was a dull ache that weighed her down.

She was exhausted by pretending everything was all right with Quinn, from keeping herself from lashing out at the blonde like she wanted to because she didn’t want Quinn to think she’d only gotten back together to hurt her. She felt awful every time Quinn looked hesitant or sad, but she didn’t know how to be reassuring because she just could _not_ tell Quinn that she loved Quinn enough to stay, no matter what.

She’d loved Quinn since they were in high school, and that never changed. But Quinn _really_ hurt her and when Rachel looked at Quinn, she thought about Quinn telling her “I don’t love you, I won’t miss you and I won’t regret ending this, not ever.”

It must have been a _little_ true for her to say it, didn’t it?

Having Quinn around so much made her anxious. Every phone call, every text, every email made her stomach churn a little bit, and Quinn called her, texted her and emailed her _a lot_. Quinn seemed to think that everything would get better if they were just together more, and maybe that was true. Rachel hoped it was. But she just felt the need to be around Quinn less and she didn’t know how to negotiate the extremely contradictory feeling of wanting to back together with Quinn, but to spend less time with her. So Rachel just did it Quinn’s way, and said “okay” every time Quinn wanted to hang out and responded as quickly as she could to Quinn’s phone calls, texts and emails and hoped it’d work out.

She always felt the need to respond right away even though she wanted to ignore everything because she knew what ignoring Quinn would do to the blonde. Even when they were still in Lima and were hiding their relationship from everyone, the worst thing Rachel could do to Quinn was to ignore her. Quinn was rejected and ignored by her own parents and therefore could not tolerate it-- there were times when Quinn just _perceived_ that Rachel was ignoring her and Rachel caught _so_ much shit from her. It was almost frightening, really. So she tried not to ignore Quinn, even when she wanted to, but there were times when she did it deliberately because if she didn’t ignore Quinn, she’d give into the urge to hurt Quinn in ways that were more cutting and definitely more harmful.

Rachel was trying-- she was _really_ trying, but she was tired and just so exhausted. She felt guilty for hurting Tim and that nothing she said could make it better for him. Her guilt over Tim kept her up on half the nights she couldn’t sleep. She had it _so_ close with him. She hadn’t been happy exactly, but she’d been close. He was so good to her, he was handsome and he had such a good heart, it really did come close to being love. But she was never afraid to lose him, and it was never hard with him. She didn’t love him enough to be afraid to lose him and she didn’t love him enough to fight him for what she wanted, she just gave in because she didn’t care to put up a struggle. She knew it was the right decision to end it, but he’d looked so terribly hurt and she couldn’t run from that expression on his face because she carried it with her all the time.

Her guilt over not being able to make Quinn happy kept her up on the other nights she couldn’t sleep. She felt guilty that Quinn was so skittish and anxious around her, always so ready to have the door shut on her face. But she was angry at Quinn for coming back into her life just when she was finally putting her life back together again-- a life she didn’t expect to include Quinn.

She was sure there was something she could do or say to make Quinn feel better, to feel more secure. But she wasn’t sure what it was, and she didn’t know if she’d be willing to do it even if she did. After all, in her mind, Quinn had made a very clear choice when the blonde broke up with her. Rachel just felt a little entitled to holding onto a modicum of pride and self-respect.

How could she tell Quinn “the things you said to me didn’t change the way I felt about you-- I still love you.” It was true, but she didn’t want Quinn to know that.

It would just give Quinn free license to treat her any old way she wanted, because then the blonde would know that she could say or do anything, and Rachel would still love her anyway. It made her feel pathetic, foolish and so damn _stupid_. And it’d all be worth it if she could just believe that Quinn loved her back, but she didn’t. She didn’t believe in or trust anything Quinn said to her anymore.  
  
If Quinn left once, she’d leave again, and more importantly, Rachel didn’t get why Quinn couldn’t _just_ leave that first time, she didn’t get why Quinn had to _say_ those mean things, too.

She wanted to scream at Quinn and ask how Quinn could say those things to her or even _think_ them. How could Quinn do that? If Quinn had ever felt even a flicker of softness or kindness for her, Quinn would have spared her _that_ much. Quinn didn’t have to stay with her-- Rachel never wanted Quinn to stay somewhere she didn’t want to, but Quinn could at least have kept the “I don’t love you”s to herself. But she didn’t ask because Quinn didn’t seem to want to tell her, and Rachel really wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

There was always a chance the true answer was: “I did mean those things, I’m just passing the time with you.” Or “I did mean those things, but you’re a convenient fuck.”

Rachel could understand why Quinn ended things-- Quinn’s parents came back into her life, claiming forgiveness and dangling the promise of financial support and family. They’d still been in college then, and Rachel knew how much Quinn struggled for money, how much student loan debt the blonde was racking up. Rachel understood how the promise of family was too much for Quinn to ignore-- it was just too tempting. Rachel wasn’t sure if she could have resisted the temptation if she were in the same situation. But she didn’t get why Quinn had to twist the knife in her chest by saying those mean, awful things before she left.

There just _had_ to be a kernel of truth in it, no matter how much Quinn denied it. Rachel just couldn’t believe otherwise.

She suspected that Quinn would leave again, and Rachel had no intention of letting Quinn know that she’d still love the blonde when the blonde did. She was tired, and she was tired of the way things were, but Rachel had always prided herself on her ability to solider on through anything.

Back in school, she could stay up all night studying and still go for her 5am run to start off her exercise regime. And now in her career, she could forego food for days, even when she actually had an appetite, so that she could be New York skinny for an audition. She could sing, dance, and put on a happy face for hours and hours. She could go on rehearsing even when she was bone-deep tired until it was perfect.

And she could outlast Quinn in a relationship that was making them both unhappy, because she didn’t walk away from things and people she really wanted and loved.

\--

Quinn knew Rachel was tired-- Rachel was always tired, but she hardly ever slept. Rachel worked hard, and had no problem foregoing sleep when she needed to, but she only had sleep problems when something was bothering her.

Quinn wasn’t sure if Rachel had a good night’s sleep since they got back together-- she certainly knew that Rachel didn’t when they spent the night together. Quinn often lied next to Rachel, listening to Rachel pretend to sleep. Quinn knew Rachel was faking-- how could she not? She knew the difference. But she let Rachel pretend and she pretended to be fooled.

She wished she had the fortitude to walk away, because Brittany admitted Rachel seemed better off before they got back together. Not happy, exactly, but better off. She wished she was unselfish enough to just let Rachel’s life get back to normal, but she couldn’t. She wanted Rachel and she had Rachel back. She’d only leave now if Rachel told her to, and that was a prospect that she dreaded because she sensed that it might happen soon.

She’d been initially hopeful when Rachel invited her over for dinner, but Rachel just seemed upset and sad and was barely saying anything to her.

Rachel’s quietness was nothing unexpected or unusual anymore, but typically, Rachel was silent _and_ avoided eye contact, her eyes set resolutely on a plate of food she touched, but rarely ate. But at the moment, Rachel was quiet and kept looking up at Quinn and then looking away when Quinn looked back, and instead of Rachel pretending to eat by holding her fork and moving her food around, Rachel was wringing her hands together in her lap.

“Rachel, do you have something to tell me?” Quinn asked, after the umpteenth time she caught Rachel staring at her, only to have Rachel look away.

Rachel shook her head. “No.”

“Rach?”

Rachel looked uncomfortable. “I emailed Tim today,” she admitted.

Quinn gulped. “Oh.”

“I did it because I was mad at you about the other night when you brought him up,” Rachel confessed.

“Oh.”

Rachel cracked the knuckles on her left hand by pulling with her right. “I’m not sorry I emailed him. I need to keep apologizing to him. But I am sorry I did it because I was mad at you.”

Quinn cleared her throat. “Did he respond?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “He wants to have dinner.”

“What did you tell him?”

Rachel looked away. “I haven’t responded back. I guess it kind of depends on you.”

Quinn tried not to allow her voice to sound as hostile as she felt. “Why’s that?”

Rachel’s eyes were still averted. “Well,” she said. “You seemed really upset I _wanted_ to write to him, and I hadn’t yet.” She pushed her plate away. “I feel like a jerk no matter what I do, but I’m more comfortable with being a jerk to him by not talking to him and having you feel okay than being a jerk to you by talking to him and having you _not_ be okay.” Rachel paused. “Does that make sense?”

Quinn softened. “I’d rather you didn’t have dinner with him or talk to him,” she admitted. “I know it’s selfish of me, but…” she trailed off. She tried to smile but faltered. “I don’t want you to resent me though. If you want to talk to him, I can handle that.”

“But you wouldn’t be okay with it. You wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

Quinn sighed. “No.”

Rachel nodded her head ever so slightly. “Yeah, okay,” she said. She bit her lip and pulled her right leg up into her lap so that her right foot rested on her left thigh. She exhaled softly.

“You won’t have dinner with him?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel shook her head. “No.”

Quinn had to admit she was relieved. “Thank-you,” she said softly.

Rachel sighed. “Yeah.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said quietly. “I mean it. Thank you. I know ideally you’d want to talk to him and be friends. So I know what you’re giving up. You don’t know what this means to me.”

Rachel nodded. “It’s fine, Quinn.”

And it was, because though Tim had been kind to her, and she felt like she owed it to him to apologize as much as possible, she wanted it to work with Quinn and so she felt she owed Quinn _more_. But she kind of hated herself for feeling that way, too. Being with Quinn made her feel completely pathetic, but she didn’t know what else to do.  
  
“I love you,” Quinn said quietly, because it seemed like Rachel was retreating from her. She just wanted to get her girl back. She just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. She understood why things were bad, but all she wanted was a little hint that things would get better.

“Uh-huh.” Rachel wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Quinn bowed her head slightly. “Don’t you believe me?” she asked, her voice faltering, because Rachel never smiled anymore when Quinn told her that, and she sure as hell didn’t say it back. There were no more “I love you, too”s.

Rachel was silent for a moment and then sighed. “No.”

Quinn stared at her. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing here for all this time, then?” she demanded. And God, she winced when she realized how hostile she sounded but she really did feel hostile. It was all just too much for her, all the tension and anxiety of the last few months, of thinking she was getting Rachel back, but getting a stranger instead, who was polite, but cold. Rachel looked unruffled by the tone. “How can you not believe me?” Quinn asked.

“You already told me you didn’t and you don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“Then believe me when I say I love you! I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t love you.”

Rachel chuckled humorlessly. “I’ve known you since we were kids, and the one thing I do know about you is that you don’t say things you don’t mean, but you don’t have a problem lying if it gets you what you want. I’m not sure what you want from me now, but I know you don’t have a problem lying to me to get it.”

“Rachel--”

Rachel flinched and seemed to deflate. She leaned in close and sighed. “ _God_ ,” she whispered. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m just being awful to you for the sake of being awful. I had a hard day and I’m just taking it out on you. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” She gave Quinn an overly bright smile and brushed her lips against Quinn’s cheek. “I love you,” she murmured. “I do. I really do. I am such a _jerk_. I’m sorry.” She pulled back and bit her lower lip. “Damn. You know what? I forgot something in my locker at the theatre…”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “What did you forget?”

Rachel blinked. “My cellpho--no, my wallet…no, wait…I…I just forgot something, okay?!”

Quinn nodded. Rachel was a terrible liar when it came to stuff like this. “Okay,” Quinn said, accepting it. “Go get it then.”

Rachel smiled, relieved. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Quinn said.

Rachel didn’t return that night.

\--

Quinn was surprised, but not shocked to return to her apartment the next day after work to see Rachel waiting outside it.

“Hi,” Quinn said. “Don’t you still have your key? This is your apartment, too.”

“It’s not my apartment anymore,” Rachel said quietly. “I moved out, Quinn. I have my own apartment now.”

Quinn nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Okay.” She opened the door and gestured for Rachel to enter first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back last night,” Rachel said softly once they were safely inside and the door closed.

“You should have just asked me to leave,” Quinn said quietly. “I would have left. You didn’t have to stay out all night so that I’d have to wonder where you were, or who you were with. It was _your_ apartment.”

“I was at Brittany and Santana’s.”

“I called them to look for you, they said they hadn’t seen you.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “I was there when you called. I told them to tell you they didn’t know anything.”

Quinn crossed her arms and shook her head. “How long are you going to do this to me?”

Rachel looked away and then stared down at the ground. She folded her arms over her chest. “So, then why are you staying with me if I treat you so badly when you left me when I treated you well?”she asked defensively. “I’m not going to beg you to stay this time. I promise not to bother you with phone calls and text messages this time, so _go_ if you’re so unhappy with the way I treat you and I’m such an awful person.”

Things were silent for a while until Quinn spoke.

“You make this so hard for me,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel released a long and deep breath. “I know,” Rachel said softly. “I love you but…” she swallowed hard. This seemed as good of a time as any to really get things off her chest, to tell Quinn all the things she’d been trying to stuff down for months. She really wasn’t going to be able to stand it for much longer anyway. “I _hate_ you so much sometimes.”

It’d been months since Rachel told her she hated her and Quinn wished Rachel had just hit her instead. Anything but tell her that.

“A lot of the time, I can’t look at you without getting angry,” Rachel admitted quietly. “I don’t want to _want_ to be with you. It doesn’t feel good. But I can’t help myself.”

“Oh,” Quinn whispered.

“But it’s not like that all the time,” Rachel said hurriedly. “I feel _so_ guilty, _all_ the time. I don’t make you happy.”

“Yes, you do,” Quinn refuted. “I’m just glad we’re back together and--”

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of bitchy sometimes and I lov--”

“I’m supposed to not take that the wrong way?” Quinn interrupted.

“You’re kind of bitchy and I love that about you,” Rachel said. “Do you remember two months ago when I fell off the sink in the bathroom because I was cleaning the mirror?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “I told you not to clean when you’re drunk.”

“You were so nice to me about it.”

“Well, you did need stitches from when your forehead cracked the bathroom mirror.”

“Any other time, you would have made fun of me for being klutzy, you would have made fun of my temporary disfigurement and you would have told me I deserved it for doing something as stupid as climbing on the sink to clean the mirror while drunk. But you were just way too nice to me. You weren’t yourself. You’re _afraid_ to be yourself around me-- all the time. I love you-- you can be yourself around me! And I make you _miserable_!” Rachel exclaimed.

“So now I’m being penalized for being nice to you?!” Quinn demanded, the hostility rising. But it was true that she often felt like she was walking on eggshells around Rachel, that whatever peace they had between them was so fragile. “You think I’m a _bitch_?!”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I--”

“Well, what the fuck did you mean? I’m fine with this. I _am_ myself around you, and if I _were_ miserable, I’d tell you. Unlike you. Maybe _you’re_ miserable. And I’m not the one being a bitch here.”

Rachel bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I keep saying the wrong thing to you. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should go.”

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Just talk to me!” she exclaimed forcefully. “Be honest with me!”

Rachel shook her head. “I should go. Let’s just talk another day. I’m really ti--”

“’I’m really tired, I had such a hard day,’” Quinn said, mimicking Rachel’s go-to statement anytime she tried to talk to Rachel. She was tired of this. She was overwhelmed and despite how Rachel seemed to try to be delicate, Rachel had really hurt her feelings, too. But Rachel had been right: she was miserable in the relationship and now Rachel had pretty much given her free license to be as mean as she wanted. She looked at Rachel scornfully. “You’re such a coward. You won’t just come out and say what’s on your mind. You just give me the silent treatment to punish me and you look at me with these big cow eyes! If you have something to say, you should have just said it! But that’s who you are! You didn’t love Tim, but you would have married him anyway because you were too much of a coward to tell him you didn’t love him. I did you a favor, Rachel. You’re a coward and I’m not even sure why I want to be with you anymore. If you want me to be mean to you, I can be fucking mean to you.”

Rachel took in a deep breath and then opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it. She bit her lower lip. She yanked her arm away from Quinn and tried to make her face as impassive as possible despite the fact that she was completely offended and hurt. But it was all a little too truthful, too.

She’d already hurt Quinn enough for the night-- she could recognize hurt in Quinn that was cleverly disguised as anger. She didn’t want to do it again, and she was very close to doing it simply because she wanted to. She didn’t want to say anything else, so she just left.


	3. Better Than Today part 2

**Title:** Better Than Today  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** NC-17ish for being a little smutty waaay toward the end. It’s not, you know, graphic or anything. Just more graphic than I tend to be  
**Length:** 11,745  
**Spoilers:** None, really. But let’s say through Bad Reputation to be safe.  
**Summary:** This is kind of a follow-up to “Coming Back to You.” It’s slightly happier because the ‘happy ending’ is less ambiguous.  
And yes, “dark and twisty” is TOTALLY a Grey’s Anatomy reference

Happy Mother’s Day! Mine was fabulous, so I hope all of yours was, too.

* * *

 

 

Rachel was drunk and surly by the time Quinn dropped by Rachel’s apartment a few hours later. She didn’t go after Rachel right away-- she was too upset and angry, but she didn’t want to leave it the way it was, either.

Rachel stared at her for a moment before allowing Quinn to come in.

“Hi,” Rachel greeted as she walked back to her couch. Her back was to Quinn.

“Hi.”

Rachel dropped onto the couch and Quinn sat down next to her.

They were quiet for a while and watched the History channel special on Biblical battles that was currently on Rachel’s TV.

“What do you want?” Rachel asked after they finished watching the program followed by another program on Sex in the Bible and another one on Biblical prophesies and neither of them had said anything. Rachel had drank steadily through all of it, but Quinn had refused Rachel’s offer to pour her a drink.

“I just…I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t want to hear you say that you’re sorry anymore. Just shut up, okay? I don’t believe anything you say anymore, so just _shut up_ , okay? Shut up.”

Quinn cringed at the viciousness of Rachel’s tone. It was worse because Rachel wasn’t yelling at her-- she was so quiet.

“What can I do to make you believe me again?” Quinn asked softly.

Rachel sighed. “What do you want, Quinn?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I want you.”

“Sure,” Rachel scoffed. She stood up and folded her arms crossed over her chest. “I think you should go.” She was drunk, but she had just enough to self-control where she could reign in snapping at Quinn again.

Quinn stood up. “I’ll do anything,” she whispered before she left.

\--

It was 4am when her phone rang. Rachel hardly ever called her, but Quinn supposed that she called Rachel so much that there was no need for Rachel to call her.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked quietly in lieu of saying hello.

“Touch yourself and think of me,” Rachel said. She sounded drunk and angry.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“Put your hand in your pussy and think of me. Right now. I want to hear you,” Rachel said harshly.

Rachel didn’t…she didn’t talk like _that_. Rachel just wasn’t graphic like that and Rachel’s tone was definitely harsh and vaguely demeaning, almost mocking her.

Quinn hesitated. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Just do it, baby,” Rachel said quietly, her tone softening. “When you do it, do you think about me?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Yes,” she admitted

“I think about you, too,” Rachel said softly. “So just do it for me, okay, baby? I want to hear you. Just take one of your hands and bring it down. Touch yourself.”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

She kept one hand holding the phone and brought the other down to herself and thought about Rachel, thought about their long-past good times.

Sex used to be just a part of their lives, not a big deal, usually. It still felt the same since they got back together-- it still felt good, but since they got back together, it didn’t seem like Rachel was enjoying it and Rachel didn’t kiss her afterward anymore, didn’t want to be touched or held. She just rolled away and said “I love you” and hovered at the far edge of her side of the bed. If Quinn tried to initiate non-sexual contact, Rachel just seemed so uncomfortable and usually made an excuse to leave the bed, like using the bathroom or getting a drink of water. There were times when Quinn woke up in the middle of the night and found Rachel in the living room, watching TV in the dark and Quinn got the impression that Rachel just wanted to be away from her. Quinn finally just stopped, because it felt better not to try at all than try and be rebuffed.

It didn’t take long until Quinn was grunting softly into the phone and releasing strangled cries. She breathed into the phone in short gasps.

“Are you wet?”

“Yes,” Quinn grunted. She was so wet she could hear her fingers sliding through her wet flesh even over Rachel’s occasional questions and breaths.

“I want to hear.”

“How am I--”

“Figure it out.”

Quinn swallowed hard and bit her lip. She brought the phone close to her and hoped Rachel could hear. She brought the phone back to her ear.

“Rachel,” Quinn breathed. She was so close. “Tell me what you want me to do to myself.”

Rachel swallowed audibly. “How many fingers do you have inside yourself?”

“Three,” she rasped.

“Rub your clit with your thumb. Pretend it’s me.”

They went on that way for a few minutes, Rachel letting Quinn get just close enough but not allowing her to get there until Quinn was begging.

And when Quinn finally came, Rachel released a sigh.

“I love you,” Rachel said. She hung up.  
\--

A few hours later there was a knock on Quinn’s door just as she was about to pour herself a bowl of cereal. She opened the door to find Rachel at her doorstep carrying two coffees and two bagels with cream cheese. She held a bouquet of flowers.

Rachel studiously avoided eye contact. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for last night…well, this morning,” she said “I was drunk, stupid and abusive. I’m sorry,” she said. “I brought breakfast.”

“Aren’t you usually at rehearsal by now?”

Rachel still wouldn’t make eye contact. “I called in sick. I was hoping we could have breakfast together. Can I come in?”

Quinn realized that Rachel was still just standing there. “Oh, god. Of course!” She grabbed the coffees and gestured for Rachel to come inside.

Rachel stepped in hesitantly, like she was going to get ambushed. She set the bagels on the counter and passed the flowers to Quinn. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking contrite. “I was really drunk last night and I don’t know why I asked you to….” Rachel trailed off and blushed.

“We’ve done that before,” Quinn said softly.

“I know, but…” Rachel was uncomfortable. “I feel like I should apologize for it. I just…” she swallowed hard and bit her lip. “You’re so pretty, do you know that?” she asked softly.

“Rachel,” Quinn breathed.

“It’d been a long time since I could appreciate that,” Rachel murmured, unable to make eye contact. “But I heard you last night…you were…” Rachel’s voice dropped into a whisper. “You were…” she cleared her throat. “You were saying my name and I remembered how pretty you are when we…” she trailed off.

Quinn thought about the contrast between the woman standing in front of her, blushing and stuttering through an apology and the woman who was on the phone with her last night with the dirty mouth and breaths that Quinn could almost imagine feeling, so hot, against her neck.

“I just…I’m sorry,” Rachel said. “It was way out-of-line and I really needed to come over to apologize.”

“Don’t.” Quinn said bluntly. “Don’t apologize. It… it kind of took me by surprise but it wasn’t the first time we did that and…it was kind of nice, almost like the way it was before when we could do that to each other and not have to be embarrassed or apologize,” Quinn said wistfully. She wrapped her arms around Rachel, drawing her close so that their stomachs touched. She winced when Rachel flinched at the contact, but Rachel didn’t squirm or stiffen like she usually did, so Quinn didn’t let go. “I’m sorry I was so mean to you last night”

Rachel gave her a tiny grin. “I kind of liked it,” she joked.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “God, you’re weird.”

Rachel cupped Quinn’s cheek and Quinn felt her eyes close. It was really the first time she could remember Rachel initiating contact. “I know you have to be at work soon, but I’m kind of hoping you might….”she blushed and slipped her hand under Quinn’s skirt. “have some time for me.”

Quinn swallowed hard and she bit her lip when she felt Rachel’s fingers brush against her, teasing her flesh, but not slipping inside her.

It was the first time Rachel initiated sex, too. She’d always been the one to initiate it, hoping that one day, she’d finally see actual want and need in Rachel’s face rather than acquiescence. She was finally seeing want and need for the first time in so long.

“I can always call in sick,” Quinn rasped when she felt Rachel touch her the way she touched herself just a few hours before while she pretended it was Rachel.

“Good,” Rachel murmured. She leaned her lips close to Quinn’s ear. “Touch yourself where you want my mouth to go, show me,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”

\--

They were still lying in bed a few hours later.

“Come here,” Quinn whispered, reaching for Rachel who was curled up, her back to Quinn on her side of the bed. Rachel just seemed too far away at that moment. She wrapped her arm around Rachel’s waist.

Rachel released a low chuckle. “Again? That’s like, five times.” But she rolled around to face Quinn and wiggled closer.

Quinn swallowed. “I just want…” she pulled Rachel closer and hugged Rachel as tightly as she could. She buried her face in Rachel’s neck.

Rachel stroked Quinn’s hair. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing the change in mood.

Quinn didn’t respond right away and Rachel continued to stroke Quinn’s hair.

“Hey,” Rachel said. “Come on now. What’s wrong?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Rachel frowned, and hesitated but only for a fraction of a second. “I love you.”

Quinn pulled away and sat up. “Do you really?” she asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore. It’s not like how it was before.”

Rachel sat up as well. “What did you expect? That we get back together and it goes back to the way it was?”

The expression on Rachel’s face made Quinn feel _so_ foolish for thinking that it would.

“Are you saying it never will?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel sighed. “I want it to,” she admitted.

“Me too,” Quinn said. “Why can’t it?”

Rachel crossed her arms. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She hesitated. “I should go.”

Quinn sighed. “Is this how it’s going to be now? You’re just going to leave all the time? It’s going to be like this forever?”

Rachel covered her head with her hand. “What makes you think we’re going to be together for that long?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “What are you saying?”

Rachel shrugged. “I’m not assuming we’re going to stay together anymore. I’m not certain why _you’d_ make that assumption.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Rachel snorted. “You’re more likely to do that than I am. You’ve already done it before. What’s going to stop you from doing it again? I’m not breaking up with you, but I’m not assuming we’re going to stay together anymore, either.”

“I’m not going to do that again.”

“Right,” Rachel drawled. “And what about when something better comes along?”

Quinn flinched. She hated to hear her own words thrown back at her. It reminded her of how as much as she loved someone, she couldn’t help but hurt them, too.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel’s face became expressionless. “I told you,” she said coldly. “I don’t want to hear you say that to me again.”

“But I am,” Quinn said desperately. “I never meant those things. I didn’t _mean_ any of them. None of it was true.” She reached for Rachel. “I’m so sorry. I--”

“Then why did you say it?!” Rachel exploded. She pushed Quinn away.

Quinn reached for Rachel again, taking her by the shoulders. “I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t _touch_ me,” Rachel said, pulling away from Quinn. “Just keep your hands _away_ from me..”

Quinn put her hands up. “Okay,” she said quietly. “All right.” She swallowed hard. “Whatever you want. Just…just listen to me, okay?”

Rachel shrugged. “ _Yes_?”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean _any_ of it. I’m _so_ sorry for what I did, and what I said, but I didn’t mean any of it!”

Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to listen to this again. You don’t say things you don’t mean-- it’s one of the things I love about you.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Quinn shouted. “Will you just believe me?!”

“Then why did you say it!” Rachel shouted. “God! Do you think I’m so stupid that I’ll just believe anything you tell me now? I’m not an idiot! Just admit you don’t love me and admit you _did_ mean what you said to me and stop pretending like you didn’t! I’m fine with the way things are now, so just admit you meant it! It’ll be fine, and then we’ll both stop skirting around the elephant in the room. Just admit you don’t love me. Say it! Or else why would you have said it in the first place?! Just say it!”

“Because I thought it would make it easier for you!” Quinn exploded. She couldn’t take the haranguing, badgering, terribly vicious tone. She felt Rachel’s rage wash over her and she just felt the need to push back.“I never thought I could be with you again! I never thought we’d be here like this when I said that stuff to you! I wanted you to hate me because I thought it would make it easier for you, because as long as you hated me, you wouldn’t miss me. But _I_ missed _you_. And when you took care of me that night, even after I was so horrible to you, even after so much time passed, I needed you back. I _know_ I’m selfish, but I wanted you back! I knew I’d regret breaking up with you, but I didn’t realize how _much_ I’d regret it. They were my parents and I thought we could be a family again! I didn’t _think_ about how you were _already_ my family and how you treated me better when we were enemies than they ever did when I was someone they could be proud of! I wanted you to hate me because I thought it’d be easier for you and I hated that you hated me, but I wanted it to be just a _little_ easier for you! And I’m _sorry_ I ruined your life by coming back and I’m sorry you ended things with Tim. But I just wanted you back, and _you_ chose _me_! I’m not forcing you to stay!”

Rachel sucked in a deep breath and stared at Quinn wordlessly, her eyes wide. It hadn’t made it easier-- all she’d been left with was the thought that someone she loved, someone she valued more than _anything_ had never loved her. It made it more difficult than she’d ever be willing to tell Quinn. But she understood Quinn’s logic, because for better or worse, she understood Quinn.

“Say something,” Quinn pleaded after nearly two minutes of total silence.

“I think those bagels I brought are bad now,” Rachel said finally. “They had the cream cheese on them already and they’ve been on your counter for hours.”

“Something else,” Quinn joked, hoping that this time aiming for a little levity would have its intended effect.

Rachel laughed, but then her face became somber again. “I believe you,” she said softly.

“Do you?” Quinn asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “You just…” her voice faltered. “You _really_ hurt me, Quinn.”

“I know,” Quinn said quietly. She hesitantly reached out to touch Rachel’s arm. She breathed a sigh of relief when Rachel didn’t move away. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly. “I’m sorry, too.” She released a breath. “I have my fair share in this, too. But I want it to be better.”

“Me too,” Quinn said.

“Okay,” Rachel said. “Okay. Now I know why you said…” she trailed off. “It’s going to be okay, Quinn. It will.”

Quinn hesitated a moment before she asked. “Could you…maybe talk to me more? You just _look_ at me sometimes and it’s like you just totally hate me. You just _ignore_ me.”

“I don’t totally hate you,” Rachel denied. “I’m not trying to ignore you. I just don’t want to say something mean to you. I don’t _want_ to hurt you any more than I already have.”

“I can take it,” Quinn said quietly. “I can take you being mean to me, or even telling me you hate me. But I can’t take it when you won’t talk to me or look at me. I can’t _take_ it. You used to talk to me about your day or stuff you wanted to do, or even stuff you watched on TV or read about. You don’t do _any_ of that anymore. Can you just…talk to me a little more?

“Of course,” Rachel said softly. She hadn’t realized how completely cut off Quinn must have felt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just…I didn’t want to say something mean or spiteful accidentally. I just thought it would be easier to shut up.”

“I can take it,” Quinn whispered. “But don’t cut out on me.”

Rachel nodded. “Okay,” she said. She gave Quinn a small smile. “I’m…I’m not really comfortable here anymore. Can we table this for another day? Let’s get dressed. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.  
\--

“You and the Drunk Anorexic seem like you’re doing better,” Santana commented to Quinn one night several weeks later.

“She told you, anorexics don’t drink that much alcohol-- it has too many calories.”

Santana shrugged. “They let actresses walk around drunk all the time, but I get my ass handed to me for being twenty minutes late? I chose the wrong fucking profession.”

“You walk around drunk all the time, too,” Quinn pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m in PR and Marketing, it’s expected.”

Quinn laughed. “Come on, let’s get back to our girls.”

\--

“I have a joke,” Rachel announced once they were finished with dinner. Quinn was pleased to see that Rachel had actually eaten at least half her plate. “Trish told it to me.”

“Oh, _Trish_ ,” Quinn said nasally. “God, I hate her!” She really did. It was clear that Trisha had her sights on Rachel, but Rachel was too oblivious to figure it out.

Rachel’s brow furrowed and she stared at Quinn for a moment. “Okay, weirdo. _Anyway_. So this man goes the doctor and says, ‘doctor, please give me some medications to help me live a very long life.’ The doctor asks him ‘do you smoke?’ ‘No.’ ‘Do you drink a lot of alcohol?’ ‘No.’ ‘Do you do drugs?’ ‘No.’ ‘Do you have a lot of sex with a lot of different women?’ ‘No.’ So--”

“What’s to live for then?” Brittany interrupted.

Rachel was outraged. “Brittany! That was the punch line!” She looked at Brittany suspiciously. “Did you hear it before?”

Brittany looked at her blankly. “No,” she said slowly. “So seriously, what would he have to live for?”

Rachel sighed and Quinn comforted her. “It’s okay, honey,” Quinn soothed. “You just need to accept that when you’re funny, it’s unintentional.”

Rachel’s mouth settled into a full-on pout which Quinn felt the urge to kiss away.

“Gross,” Santana commented as she watched Quinn kiss Rachel.  
\--

Quinn kicked Rachel under the table. It was not particularly gentle because Rachel was staring at a girl who was rather attractive and was doing it pretty openly.

“Ow,” Rachel said, rubbing her shin. “Must you be so violent?”

“See something you like?”

Rachel blushed. “I was just wondering what she was listening to,” she said, gesturing to the girl who was eating alone and had headphones on.

“Right,” Quinn said dryly.

Rachel ducked her head. “Okay, so sometimes my eyes wander,” she said. “But not for long.” She leaned forward and peered into Quinn’s eyes. “It’s normal. You’re still my favorite view.”

Quinn leaned forward so that her nose and Rachel’s nose came very close together. “Just remember what I’ll do to you if your eyes ever wander for a little too long.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Bitchy,” she commented with a grin. “I like it.”

Quinn smirked. “You won’t like what I do to you if you do.”

Rachel smiled. “Yeah, yeah, Promises.”

Quinn smirked again. “You’re replaceable, you know,” she joked.

Rachel’s expression froze and then became impassive. “Huh,” she commented. She pulled back.

“Rachel,” Quinn said panicking. She leaned forward, practically crawling across the table. “It was a joke. I was kidding. I just wanted it to be like it was when we used to be able to say that to one another and not--”

Rachel nodded. “I know,” she said softly, “Calm down, okay? Jeez, what are you going to do, start dancing on the table? You’ll get us kicked out and I need my change.” Rachel pointed at the waiter who was making his way toward them, looking irate.

Quinn flushed and sat down again. The waiter backed off and helped another table instead. “Are you mad?”

Rachel shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s okay. We’re not going to get back to normal without…you know… we can’t be afraid to be mean to each other sometimes. It’s kind of our thing.”

“I’m better at it than you are though,” Quinn said again. “But then again, I’m better than you at so many things.”

“We both have our separate talents, Quinn,” Rachel said. “For instance, I’m better than you at humility because I don’t frequently mention the multitude of things I’m better than you at.”

“Can you _name_ these things?” Quinn asked.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “It would be impertinent to share this list with you.”

Quinn smiled crookedly. “You’re not going to run off with someone while you’re in LA are you?” she asked. “It’d be awful of you to meet some beefy actor or some skinny model and fall in love with them while the last conversation you have with me is how you’re so much better than I am at a lot of things.”

“It’s just a guest spot on a dinky TV show,” Rachel said dismissively. “And have you seen the actors and actresses on that show? They are nowhere near as attractive as we are. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“It’s nice to know you’re still that shallow.”

“I am very dependable, which is one of the--”

“Don’t say that’s one of the things you’re better at than I am,” Quinn said, putting up one of her hands and shaking her head. “Who was forty five minutes late to dinner last week and left me sitting around looking like a loser at Joe’s?”

“But they know us there, so they were already aware of that fact.”

Quinn chuckled. “You’re a bitch.”

“And you’re still better at that than I am, baby.”

Quinn looked at her wryly. “Thanks.”

The waiter came back to give Rachel her change from settling the bill. Rachel stood up. “I’m going to go,” Rachel said.

Quinn stood up as well and pulled Rachel close for a kiss. “Have fun in LA. Do _not_ let Puck get you drunk.”

Rachel smiled. “Have a little faith.”

“In Puck?!”

Rachel looked at her as though she were insane. “In Noah? Of course not. In me.”

Quinn laughed. “Okay,” she said. “Have fun shooting.”

“I will.” Rachel kissed Quinn again and then picked up her purse. She pulled her digital camera out. “Here,” she said, passing Quinn the camera.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a camera, Quinn. Cameras are devices which record images and--”

“I know what a camera is,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes. She pinched Rachel’s nose fondly and giggled when Rachel slapped at her hands. “Why are you giving me yours?”

Rachel leaned forward. “I took some dirty pictures for you on it,” she whispered, grinning wickedly. “So that you won’t miss me too much while I’m gone.” She paused. “Or maybe so you’ll miss me just enough.” She kissed Quinn. “I’ll be thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you when I come back.”

Quinn swallowed. “You’re a ho,” she said affectionately, but she was blushing.

Rachel laughed. “I’m going to grab a cab. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Rachel hailed a cab and got inside. She waved at Quinn as it drove away. There were still times when she was angry, but she wasn’t angry _all_ the time anymore. She didn’t have the same confidence she and Quinn would grow old together the way she used to, but then again, she didn’t feel like they were constantly on the verge of breaking up either. Common ground was enough.

She got a text from Quinn a few minutes later.

‘Dirty.’

Rachel grinned. Quinn must have looked at the pictures.

‘You’ve been a good girl.’ Rachel typed back.

She didn’t know the future, her occasional psychic ability notwithstanding, so she didn’t know if she and Quinn would stay together, but she did know that she stopped being afraid that they wouldn’t. And she did know she stopped half-hoping they’d break up.

Being in love with and loving Quinn Fabray was not the easiest thing she’d ever done, not even when things between them were good. It wasn’t easy because Quinn was beautiful, though Rachel liked that Minne Ripperton song well enough. It was hard and frustrating so much of the time, Rachel sometimes wished she could have wised up in high school and ran screaming before she fell too in love to make that prospect impossible. Quinn had a way of making her feel both ten feet tall and an inch tall, but she loved Quinn anyway-- probably more than what was considered healthy.

Her phone rang and it was Quinn.

“I’m not sure if these would qualify as ‘dirty,’ I think the more appropriate word is ‘obscene.’ How did you even get the camera at that angle. It’s--”

“I’m _really_ flexible, Quinn. Don’t forget that. And don’t forget to take a look at them before you go to bed tonight. I might call in to check that you did.”

Quinn swallowed audibly. “Uh,” Quinn said her voice cracking. “Dirty pictures are good and all,” Quinn said, “But hurry back”.

“I haven’t even made it to the airport yet.”

“I know. So hurry up.”

Rachel laughed. “You’re very bossy and demanding.”

“It’s a good thing you take direction surprisingly well for someone so self-absorbed who thinks she’s always right.”

“Pick me up when I come back?” Rachel asked.

Quinn hesitated. “But you didn’t want me to go with you to drop you off.”

She’d been a little hurt by that, but she didn’t push it, either.

“I’d just rather see you while I’m coming home rather than when I’m leaving.”

Quinn chuckled, though she was undeniably touched. “You’re charming, but it’s on the cheesy side.”

“Good thing I’m the one who is a little lactose-intolerant. I love you. See you in a few days.”

“I love you, too.”

There were a lot of things Rachel wasn’t that she wished she could be-- tall, for one. She wasn’t a huge star yet, though she was on the rise. She wished she were kinder and more tolerant. She wished she were more patient. But she wasn’t afraid anymore and she had a girlfriend who told her things like “well, you’re _almost_ average in height” and “you’re nicer and more patient than I am,” so she supposed that it was kind of an even trade.

\--

She came home a few days later and felt someone jab a finger into her back as she was getting her luggage.

Rachel turned her head to see Quinn standing behind her wearing a policewoman’s hat from an old Halloween costume. She looked down to see Quinn had turned her index finger and thumb into a gun. “Stick ‘em up,” Quinn said.

Rachel grinned and stuck her hands in the air. “Officer, I’m innocent.”

“Right,” Quinn drawled. “All right, spread ‘em.”

Rachel laughed. “Okay, now. That’s just indecent.” But she spread her legs anyway.

Quinn patted her down and then started giggling. “Okay,” she said. “I _guess_ you’re not carrying any concealed weapons or anything.”

Rachel turned around, grinned and pulled Quinn close. “But you didn’t even do a cavity search.”

Quinn blushed, but smiled. “Come along, then.”

Rachel grinned and grabbed her bags. Quinn took one, the larger one and Rachel cupped Quinn’s cheek. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Quinn smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Quinn sat next to Rachel on the cab ride home, the two of them giggling. Rachel reached for Quinn’s hand. She stroked her thumb and index finger of her right hand along the length of Quinn’s left ring finger.

“What’s your ring size? 5?”

Quinn blinked. “5.5. Why?”

Rachel shrugged. “I think it might be useful information one day, don’t you?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “One day soon?” She knew, deep down, that it was too soon. But her hope ran just as deep.

Rachel looked regretful. “No,” she said honestly. They still had a myriad of problems to work out and it was just too soon to even think about marriage. “Not soon. But one day.” She threaded their fingers together.

“Okay,” Quinn said. It hurt a little bit to know that one day was still so far away. But it was the truth and she could take the truth. “One day,” Quinn said with a nod.

It was enough for now, because there was always the promise that tomorrow will be better than today.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/28399.html  
> 1a.http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/29750.html  
> 1b. http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/30002.html


End file.
